Liberal Studies
by E.Helena
Summary: A collection of BA drabbles. CURRENT TOPIC: Survival Skills. NOTE: Ch 1, 2 and 3 previously posted under 'elfluvr.' All others new to E.Helena.
1. Lesson

Title: **Liberal Studies**

Author: E.Helena (formerly 'elfluvr')

Summary: A series of B/A drabbles mostly centered around the joy of learning.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did. Sadly, not making money off any of this.

Archive: Anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome – constructive feedback as well as encouragement.

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**NOTE: Chapters 1, 2 & 3 were previously posted under author name 'elfluvr.' All others are new to E.Helena.**

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Chapter 1 - **Lesson**

She was studying him. And he was letting her.

Her partner. _Detective Robert Goren_.

Her friend. _Bobby_.

Her lover. _Oh God!_ apparently. Alex tried to stifle a giggle (a giggle, for God's sake!) as she remembered the last time she uttered those words, not ten minutes ago.

Bobby cracked one eye open and peered up at her. "It can be bad for a man's ego to have a woman laugh at him while in bed." His voice was soft and sleepy – so sexy it melted the grin from her face.

"Somehow I doubt your ego is in any danger," she whispered. Granting her a ghost of a smile, his eye drifted closed.

They were lying on their sides in his bed, facing each other with his left leg tucked between hers and her right wrapped over his thigh. Bobby snuggled his head deeper into the pillow while the hand he had loosely draped over her hip traced lazy circles in the sensitive hollow at the base of her spine.

Alex had her head propped up on her left hand and with her right she began to lightly trace the contours of his face. Using one finger, she drew an invisible line along his brow then followed the short length of his nose. With two fingers, she caressed the plane of his cheek and the strong angle of his jaw.

She chose her thumb to enjoy the softness of his plump lower lip, then paused as she thought about his mouth – and what he could do with it.

The same mouth that could rapid-fire questions and accusations at suspects, made her shiver when he delivered whispered praises and promises against her skin.

The lips that quirked into a sardonic smirk or pressed into a thin line of anger when provoked, gifted her with feather-brushed kisses that would quickly turn into hot, demanding possession.

The perfect, boyish smile that she loved so well – the one he reserved for only her – revealed the line of teeth he used with exquisite skill to scrape her flesh or nip small pains of pleasure.

The tongue… Oh, what he could do to her with that tongue. Soft and pliant, he used it to wetly caress and lick salt from her skin, gently lapping with teasing foreplay. Tensed and firm, he'd demand entrance into her mouth, trace lines down her throat and on her body, or use it in one of the many ways he had for bringing her to screaming orgasm.

"It must be all those foreign languages," she mused aloud.

Both eyes eased open this time. "What?"

Alex leaned down to kiss him, pushing her way past the lips and the teeth to slide her tongue along his before gently sucking him into her mouth. "That," she breathed as she pulled away from him.

"Lass mich dir zeigen, wie es gemacht wird," he groaned as his hand slid into her hair and he spent the next half hour proving her point.

_End_

A/N –'Lass mich dir zeigen, wie es getan wird' means 'Let me show you how it's done.' THANK YOU to Carmen and sternchan for giving me the "conversational" translation!


	2. Learning

Summary: His body had to be wondering what the hell he was trying to do to it.

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Chapter 2 - **Learning**

At this rate, he figured he'd be dead in a week…ten days max.

A few years ago, Bobby had turned forty and for at least the last twenty years, the days of raging teenaged hormones had settled into the steadier, more controllable adult version. Until lately. Until her.

Since the first time he'd made love to Alex less than three weeks ago, Bobby had been walking around in an almost constant state of arousal. Granted, it was more progressed at some times than others, but still…his body had to be wondering what the hell he was trying to do to it. And it didn't help that at the most inopportune times, images would flash behind his eyes of Alex arching beneath him as he drove himself deeper into the pleasure of her body.

Like the time that he was in the interrogation room questioning a suspect and Alex walked in. Nothing more suggestive than that. But in the second it took for her right hip to sway in counterpoint to the stride of her left leg, Bobby's mental ears heard the gasp she'd make when he'd slip his left hand under that hip, find the perfect angle, and be rewarded with delicious pleas panted against his neck. The hormones raged, his mind went blank and his groin tightened instantly. Fortunately for him, Alex had come in with a damning piece of evidence and she took control of the interrogation – at least until the perp's lawyer arrived.

But Bobby was learning. Learning to keep his eyes averted when Alex leaned over next to him so he wouldn't be tempted by a possible glimpse of the soft swells beneath her blouse. Learning not to read too much into her teasing smiles and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes – at least not while at work. Learning not to visualize the evidence on her skin that prompted her to wear turtleneck sweaters on too warm days following too hot nights.

He was also learning to keep his distance if he had any hope at all of not pinning her against a wall and kissing her senseless while her body moved against him in search of friction. There was a range at which he could smell her perfume and shampoo – dangerous enough in their own right. But then there was that proximity that was just one inch too close where he could smell _her_ beneath the applied fragrances. At that distance, all rational thought could fly out the window – hormones apparently replaced the normal chemicals of his brain and they served to fuel the 18-year-old that had taken up residence between his thighs.

And here they were, not 15 minutes since he last groaned in pleasure and lost all control as she hoarsely called his name and branded fingernail-size crescents into his lower back. He felt relaxed and content. Here he didn't need to fight off images – the real thing was right before him. Here he didn't have to worry about responding to her scent – he was free to inhale to his heart's content and then some.

Alex was lightly tracing paths on his skin while he lay beside her with his eyes closed and their legs tangled together. Soothing. Her touch…her scent…her warmth. He was about to fall asleep…

'It must be all those foreign languages,' he heard her murmur. Bobby opened his eyes to question her meaning and Alex leaned down to possess his mouth – her lips pressed hard against his, her tongue taking control and sliding around his. By the time she began to gently suck him, the hormones were already racing in overdrive with the 18-year-old wide awake and confidently at the wheel.

He didn't know how much of this his body could take. But then again, he didn't care.

_End_

A/N – Thank you to BookWorm37 for suggesting a Bobby POV (probably not exactly what she had in mind) and my friend Leah Chelle for all her encouragement.


	3. Teaching

Summary: He had the benefit of experience with wrapping his tongue around foreign syllables.

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Chapter 3 -** Teaching**

'Lass mich dir zeigen, wie es gemacht wird.'

Alex was currently intrigued with his mouth – apparently because he had the benefit of experience with wrapping his tongue around foreign syllables and learning how to pronounce words with more consonants than vowels.

But Bobby wondered if she wasn't giving him credit for something he didn't deserve.

So what if his mouth and tongue were somehow more skilled than a lot of other men? That didn't explain why her body responded to him like no woman had before. And it didn't explain how she knew exactly what words to whisper in his ear to make him seal his mouth to hers and inhale her cries of pleasure. Foreign languages did not provide her with the map to his body that spelled out how a caress _here_ would make him want to consume more of her _there_. What lessons had she learned in the past to explain what she did to him?

He would ask her about that, later. For now, he was her teacher, and her willing compliance as he pulled her body beneath his was evidence enough of her hunger for knowledge.

_Oh, this is going to be so much fun._

And it was. Although, as usual, there were moments when he questioned who was teaching whom. Alex had her own special tricks and talents that left him groaning against her skin in whatever language his heated thoughts could grasp. When he could no longer hold back and with a final thrust his orgasm ripped through him first, he knew that for this lesson the student had bested the teacher.

Once again Bobby lay in slumberous contentment, this time on his back with Alex draped over his torso and her ear pressed above his heart. Her free hand, the one not currently tucked beneath his ass, was playing with his fingers – choosing first one then another to caress and examine.

"Bobby?" she asked quietly, as if she thought he might be asleep.

"Hmmmm?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you have incredible hands?"

_End_

A/N – In case you didn't read Lesson, 'Lass mich dir zeigen, wie es gemacht wird' means 'Let me show you how it's done.'


	4. Bobby 101

Author: E.Helena

Chapter 4 – **Bobby 1.01**

Alex couldn't focus on what Bobby was trying to point out to her. She blamed Carolyn Barek.

In all honesty, the fault laid squarely at the feet of the three cosmos and one lemon drop shot Alex had consumed. But she blamed Carolyn.

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A Friday night out after work with a female co-worker was a rare treat for Alex. Normally Fridays were no different from any other night of the week – late hours spent working with her definitely male partner, the highlight of which might be some fast food or take-out for dinner.

But with their extortion suspect arrested the day before then charged and bailed that morning, and the current round of paperwork pretty much caught up by mid-afternoon, Alex realized she may actually be able to have some fun that night. When Carolyn approached her before the end of the day and invited her for a drink after work, Alex jumped at the chance. She liked Carolyn, what she knew of her, and thought this might be a good opportunity to forge a new friendship.

_La Mignon's_. A quiet bar that was an extension of an elegant restaurant. No cop hangout. No family-friendly menu that invited loud children and bored, underage wait staff. With no more background noise than the quiet piano in the corner, it was a nice place that actually allowed for conversation – apparently a disappearing trend in this day and age.

The topic during the first round of cosmos centered mainly around work, recent case files and previous jobs. Round two, with hors d'oeuvres, introduced more personal discussions about family before launching into relationships. By the time their third cosmos arrived, they were deep into the 'all the good men are either married or gay' conversation, which somehow led back to work and their respective partners.

"So what do you suppose is the deal with Mike and Bobby?" Carolyn asked. "Neither one of them has ever been married. And they're definitely not gay."

"Married to the work, I guess…same as you and I. Too much time spent on the job and not enough on personal relationships," Alex looked thoughtful, tracing the rim of her martini glass with her index finger.

"Maybe we should just accept that we're never likely to meet men outside the job," Carolyn sounded resigned.

This conversation was getting too serious and bringing Alex down. They needed to lighten up. "Here's what we'll do…you set me up with Mike, I'll set you up with Bobby and we'll call it a done deal," she joked.

"Hmmm…me and Bobby," Carolyn actually seemed to be seriously considering it. "Interesting as that may be, I'm not sure how well it would work. I mean, good looks and overly-masculine bearing aside, I'm sure you know the guy has a reputation for being… odd."

Alex shrugged in agreement. It was just a joke anyway.

"What do you suppose he's really like? Under all that?" Carolyn asked before raising her glass to her mouth. Alex was kind of surprised she hadn't simply let the subject drop.

"Under all what? The Armani?"

Carolyn almost spit out her sip of cosmo, but once she choked it down she burst out laughing along with Alex. "Oh my god! I can't believe you said that!"

They were both laughing hysterically, and that's when it occurred to Alex that just maybe she'd had one drink too many. She knew she tread in dangerous territory whenever she thought of Bobby on a personal level, let alone discuss him with a co-worker.

"I was talking about all his quirks, but now that you mention it…" Carolyn arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, Lord…"

"C'mon, Alex. You've had to have wondered," she leaned forward on the table. "I've speculated about Mike."

Now it was Alex's turn to choke on her drink.

"I mean, look at Mike. Tall…dark…handsome. Definitely a charmer with the ladies," Carolyn dropped her voice to a conspiratorial level. "I've just wondered if he 'measures' up to his reputation."

"Carolyn!"

"I know you're not a prude, Alex," she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her. "Bobby is yummy and you know it. Besides, how else are we supposed to occupy our minds on dull stakeouts or during boring paperwork? It's not as though we have any other men to consider at the moment."

Alex sighed. "Sad but true."

"Tell you what…you can have all the rest of Bobby, if you'll just let me have his hands." Alex frowned in question and Carolyn grinned at her. "I'm betting he could do more for a woman with those hands than most men can achieve with their entire body."

That's when they ordered the lemon drop shots. And that's when the conversation truly spiraled out of control. In the days following that night out, it was all Alex could do not to fixate on Bobby's hands and blush with every motion or gesture he made.

So you see, although she could thank the alcohol for the momentary lapse in good judgment that led to her comment about the Armani, Alex had Carolyn Barek to blame for her thoughts constantly wandering into areas better left unexplored.

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As Bobby placed a file on the table in front of her and pointed out the notation he meant for her to see, Alex focused on his hand instead and wondered if maybe she had it all wrong – maybe she should thank Carolyn. Bobby really did have incredible hands.

_End_


	5. Festschrift

Chapter 5 - **Festschrift**

_'I'm betting he could do more for a woman with those hands than most men can achieve with their entire body.'(1)_

Carolyn Barek's words from years earlier skittered into Alex's head at this most inappropriate time. She had to work hard to stifle the nervous giggle that threatened to escape. A release of tension rather than an expression of any kind of humor, she knew the behavior would draw disapproving stares and focus all attention on her.

Bobby's hands.

In his role as a detective, his hands were tools. He handled, poked, and prodded evidence and dead bodies while thoroughly examining everything as part of his process for understanding and solving crimes. His hands served to punctuate his speech, most startlingly as an exclamation when he would slam his palm on the interrogation room table to command everyone's stunned attention. He used his hands to trace lines of printed words – gaining and sharing knowledge from books, reports, periodicals… anything that would help him figure out the world around him.

As her partner and friend, his hands provided a source of physical connection that strengthened their bonds. A light touch to her arm would request that she follow along on whatever path his mind wandered while he talked through strategies and motivations. His hand might gently rest on her shoulder when he leaned in for a closer look at her most recent discovery. If a suspect became too threatening, his hands protected her by ensuring a safe distance, or physically removing someone from her space when necessary. One hand would open doors for her as the other rested lightly on the small of her back in a gesture she chose to interpret as possession.

Too many years later, when they finally became lovers, Bobby used his hands to discover her. Tentative at first, they would skim lightly over her flesh, tracing and memorizing contours and curves – learning all her most pleasure-giving secrets. With time came confidence and a familiarity with the sensuous paths on her body. His hands knew when and where to caress. Secure in their skill and knowledge of her, they would slowly build Alex's desire to the point where she was gasping her pleas for release. And just as surely as his hands could deliver screaming sensation, they would gentle her afterward with soft strokes and warm touches.

Alex looked down at his hands and was struck by their unnatural stillness. Stealing a glance at his face, it occurred to her that she'd never seen him so at peace. Emotions welled up inside and she fixed her eyes on the stained glass window behind the altar. Alex didn't consider herself an overly religious person, but she held her own beliefs of right and wrong, good and evil, and expectations for life and death. That bit of stained glass depicting mother and child had always calmed her, but now the colors softened and the figures blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

"Amen." Her voice blended with all others in the chapel in a ritualistic assent to the final blessing offered by the priest. The ceremony was almost over. Alex could no longer hold back the tears that silently slipped from her eyes and she once again looked at his hands. Bobby's hands… clasping hers and almost, but not quite, hiding the gold band placed on her finger only moments ago.

Her husband's hands.

_End_

_(1)_ Carolyn Barek's quote comes from the previous chapter, _Bobby 1.01_.

**fest·schrift** (fĕstʹshrĭft´) _noun_  
A volume of learned articles or essays by colleagues and admirers, serving as a tribute or memorial especially to a scholar.


	6. Sinistral

Title: **Sinistral**

Author: E.Helena

Summary: Satisfaction can be hard to find. BA drabble.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Dick Wolf and the actors who bring them to life. No harm intended, no money made.

Archive: Fanfiction - anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: **Please!** It's always welcome

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**sin·is·tral** (sĭnʹĭ-strəl, sĭ-nĭsʹtrəl) _adjective  
_**1.** Of or facing the left side.  
**2.** Left-handed.

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Relief. He needed to find relief.

The hackneyed advertising question played on a loop in his head – _'How do you spell relief?' _It wasn't helping. As a matter-of-fact, it compounded his irritability.

Where was a good woman when you needed one?

For probably the fifth time in as many minutes, his large body shifted in his chair, his discomfort becoming more demanding by the second. He surreptitiously glanced across the desks, allowing himself to consider the possibility. His partner had her head bowed over some paperwork and the sweep of her highlighted hair caressed the left side of her face. She wore a sleeveless, vee-neck sweater in a shade of red that would be perfect as lipstick on her impudent smile. Tempting shadows whispered at the soft valley of the neckline and he had to force his eyes to slide away from the view.

Shaking off the distraction, he looked to her bare upper arms and appreciated that her biceps held more definition than the last time he'd considered them. _She must really be working out – getting herself back in shape after the baby._

Her hands. The right one tapped an irregular staccato with her pen – a habit she exhibited when she was either lost in thought or irritated. Her left hand lay flat on the form she was completing, holding it in place on the surface of her desk. He noticed that her nails were slightly longer than was usual for her, and they looked freshly manicured with a glossy coat of clear polish. _That must have been her lunchtime appointment yesterday – probably getting ready for the weekend._

All-in-all, she would do just fine.

If only he had the nerve to ask her. The alternative was his own left hand and the method he'd long ago figured out and utilized whenever he had to find his own relief. If he were dating someone, it wouldn't be necessary. But it had been three months since he was last involved with a woman, and self-gratification wasn't quite what he had in mind. Release without true satisfaction only worked for so long.

"Why don't you just ask me?"

Startled from his reverie by her quiet voice, he looked up into her amber-flecked eyes and realized the question was directed at him.

"I, uh…" he stuttered over his surprise at her offer. "I… couldn't…"

"Then, let me offer," she smiled softly. "It's late. Hardly anyone is here. They won't miss us if we're gone for a few minutes."

"Gone?" His mind balked at the prospect of allowing this, even as his body screamed at him to give in. _How do you spell relief? E-A-M-E-S._

"C'mon, Bobby," she encouraged as she stood up and turned toward the observation room – one of the few places on the eleventh floor that offered a modicum of privacy.

Funny. He was about to say, _'Thanks, but no,'_ when he realized he was following the sway of her hips down the hall. Closing the door behind them, it was still his intent to decline, but he complied without comment when she said, "Take off your jacket."

He draped his jacket over the back of a chair and she stepped up behind him. "Over or under?" she asked, her warm breath seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

"Ah, o-over is fine," he almost choked on anticipation.

At the first touch of her hands, he knew he would be indebted to her forever. His own feeble attempt would never feel this good. He swallowed a groan of pleasure as her nails dug in and she set a steady pace.

"Next time, Bobby," she chided, "just ask."

He nodded silently. Fingernails felt so much better than trying to use the edge of a ruler to scratch that unreachable spot in the center of his back.

_**End**_


	7. Geography

Title: **Geography**

Author: E.Helena

Summary: As far back as he could remember Bobby had been drawn by the lure of exploration – the intrigue of learning uncharted territory.

Spoilers: Brief references to the episodes "Blink," "Want," and "Blind Spot."

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em …no money … thanks Dick Wolf … and whatever else is supposed to be disclaimed.

Archive: Anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome – constructive feedback as well as encouragement.

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**Exploration**

We shall not cease from exploration  
And the end of all our exploring  
Will be to arrive where we started  
And know the place for the first time.

**T. S. Eliot** (1888–1965), Anglo-American poet, critic. _Little Gidding,_ pt. 5, in _Four Quartets_.

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Bobby was an explorer. Not the Boy Scouts of America kind. He was the 'examine and investigate systematically for the purpose of discovery' variety. As far back as he could remember he had been drawn by the lure of exploration – the intrigue of learning uncharted territory.

As a child, it began within his neighborhood. Bobby ventured out in ever-widening ripples away from the stones that frequently broke the fragile calm that was the surface of his home life. Back then, he searched for more than new locations, and his explorations took on the essence of escape.

His need to know what existed outside his own troubled universe eventually led him to Canarsie Road and bike rides at breakneck speeds to the beach. There he watched and studied the ways of older boys in their interactions with the opposite sex. When he came into his own as a teen, Bobby experimented with the techniques he'd witnessed as a child, and his own fumblings served to teach him what worked and what didn't until he refined his approach and gained confidence in his pursuits.

Later as a young army recruit, he explored the world. The sights, sounds, and flavors of far off lands begged for discovery and Bobby never hesitated to try new things. From live octopus stew in Korea, to twisting his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables of a native language – everything was fodder for his inquiring mind.

When finally he met his mentor, Bobby was more than ready for a new type of exploration – the psyches and minds of his fellow human beings. While emulating the man who treated him as a son, Bobby discovered that he had a real talent and a not-always-welcome understanding for the twisted workings of the criminal mind. He was possessed of an empathy born in his childhood; an inherent trait in a youngest child trying to fix a broken family. It was this extrinsic characteristic which allowed him to so easily slide in and out of the intellects he found interesting, but others shunned as frightening.

And so the roads of his wanderings led him to the NYPD and a growing reputation in the field of criminal profiling. His impressive solve rate eventually landed him a plum role on the Major Case Squad, with a partner who gradually grew into an acceptance (if not an understanding) for the machinations of his explorer's nature.

Now, as fortune would have it, he'd stumbled upon an exciting horizon and a novel method for exploring. This newfound territory offered such riches that, at times, he didn't know where to launch. It was in those moments that Bobby would let fate chart his course. Closing his eyes, he'd extend a hand and blindly reach for surface contact. Upon opening his eyes, he would discover the point he'd chosen and then vigorously set himself on the mission of learning everything he possibly could about this new wonder. In this pursuit, all his senses came into play. Sight and touch worked together to define color and form, adding texture to his cartographer's task. Taste and scent, the most tantalizing and memory-based of senses, combined to convey a deeper understanding and connection to his new discovery. Sweet sounds surrounded him and provided a much yearned for music that touched his soul as never before.

When finally he was satisfied that he knew everything there was to learn of this latest map point, he would begin the process anew – closing his eyes and using his hand to trace a path along his own personal map to the next spot upon which to lavish his exploration. He hoped he never ran out of new destinations.

Alex Eames' body was a wonderland and Bobby was an explorer.

_End_

A/N – Just a short stray away from Lex Talionis, which is all plotted out in my head and simply needs to find its way to paper.


	8. Antonyms

Title: **Antonyms**

Author: E.Helena

Summary: Complementary opposites. That's the best way to describe them.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Dick Wolf, René Balcer and the actors who bring them to life. No harm intended, no money made.

Archive: Fanfiction - anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome

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Complementary opposites.

That's the best way to describe them, these two disparate beings who on the surface seem an unlikely pair to be such an effective duo. The most obvious example of this opposition is their physicality.

He is a large man. Tall and broad, with an imposing bulk that he variably uses to protect (most notably around her) or to intimidate. His large frame can subtly insinuate or boldly invade the space of others, inexorably achieving his desired result – with women or with suspects.

She is pretty and petite, but not delicate. Tenaciously holding her own alongside her impressive partner, she exudes a confidence that guarantees she cannot be overlooked. That's not to say that she doesn't take advantage and pretend deference to him, when it suits her needs. What better time to slide in a sarcastic observation than when all eyes are focused on him?

And if you are lucky enough to listen in on one of their interrogations, you're struck by yet another of their polar extremes. He uses his voice, which can run the gamut from velvet caress to quiet threat in a matter of seconds, as an effective tool to confound and unbalance his prey. His tactics leave them whiplashed and willing to spill their secrets to a canny and unrelenting inquisitor.

Her manner is more given to precision. Possessed of a suspicious nature and a keen mind, she leaves no doubt as to when a person needs to watch their step or mentally backpedal to try and recall what they said that left her so certain of their guilt.

In their own unique way, each is brilliant in almost every sense of the word. Bright. Intelligent. Accomplished. And while his intellect and encyclopedic knowledge are, perhaps, more celebrated, her street smarts are just as powerful in their quiet way.

He's amused by her sharp-edged humor. She has faith in his sometimes baffling leaps of logic.

He is smart, worldly and analytical – yet open to the concepts of abstract thought and actions.

She is savvy, quick-witted and clever. Grounded and stable, she's more comfortable with absolutes.

But in the same way that a shining beam of light ignites luminous glory if it happens to kiss the solid surface of a prism, so too do these opposite forces amplify one another into bright colors and harmonious varying hues.

So, as I sit and watch them, heads bent to toil at their desks with only an occasional friendly comment or affectionate smile, I am left wondering. How can two such brilliant people be so…

Clueless?

_End_


	9. Survival Skills

Title: **Survival Skills**

Author: E.Helena

Summary: You can never be too careful.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Dick Wolf, René Balcer and the actors who bring them to life. No harm intended, no money made.

Archive: Fanfiction - anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! Encouragement and constructive criticism are always welcome.

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**explosion** (ĭk-splō'zhən)  
_A violent blowing apart or bursting caused by energy released from a very fast chemical reaction, a nuclear reaction, or the escape of gases under pressure._

Bobby could hear the timer ticking as he slowly opened the door and peered inside. Eames leaned to one side in order to see past his shoulder. He heard her breath catch, and turned his head to look at his partner. Doubt clouded her eyes.

His attention was momentarily drawn from her eyes to her mouth as she anxiously licked her lips. "Bobby, are you sure about this?"

"Stay calm, Eames," he quietly soothed. Bobby understood her concern, but he was confident he could do this successfully. "Just … ignore the timer. And trust me." A short nod of her head and he saw a new resolve settle into the golden brown of her eyes. Reassured by her renewed confidence in him, Bobby turned back to the task at hand. He crouched down in order to get a closer look and began to reach …

"What if it explodes?" Eames hissed not far from his ear.

Bobby stilled his hands and took a steadying breath before responding. "It's not going to explode," he replied evenly, somewhat proud of himself for controlling his impatience with her. "Maybe you should wait somewhere else," he suggested.

"No." Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hair toss with the shake of her head. "If you're determined to do this, then I'm staying right here."

He absently nodded agreement and refocused his efforts, reaching into the confining space.

"Maybe we should…"

"Eames," he interrupted her but did not hesitate in his movements. Timing was of the essence now, and he could no longer afford to be distracted from his course of action. "I've done this before. You just have to be … very … steady. And not make any … sudden … moves," he ended on a whisper.

Slowly he slid it toward him, lifting carefully while standing, and safely placed it on the counter. Bobby took a step back and they both stared in awe. Eames clutched his forearm and released the breath she'd been holding. "Perfect," she murmured.

Bobby grinned at her. "You pour the coffee," his voice was filled with pride. "I'll serve the chocolate soufflé."

_-End-_


End file.
